Milestones and millstones
Old I grow,
Cold and slow.
Death becomes me
'Ere I know.
Well, I'm turning 21 in 9 days. 9 days, yes, that's right.
On the 28th of March, 1986, I was born in a hospital in Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia, and the world was never the same again.
The world just doesn't know it yet.
So anyway. As one approaches this momentous, gigantic, horror-inspiring figure, one begins to contemplate certain things - one finds oneself ruminating, in the idlest moments of the night, the steadfast forward motion of Time, which inexorably steamrolls over everything in its way.
One ponders milestones and millstones.
What, you say? Well, allow me to expound, and wax cynical.
They (the inimitable "They", yes, them) say that turning twenty-one is a milestone in life. A guidepost of sorts, letting you know where you are (which is Life, of course) and what you're supposed to do (keep living, naturally), as well as where you're supposed to go (forward, one would tend to think, especially given the lack of choice involved). Something to mark all that you've achieved (which by the end of the night is, if nothing else, the unique but dubitable distinction of having imbibed copious amounts of alcohol in most occasions), and to indicate where you might proceed next in life (in this case, I'm guessing the nearest toilet).
My opinion is somewhat different though - no suprise there, of course.
If you ask me, turning twenty-one is called a "milestone" in life by mere dint of a simple mis-spelling, a mistake that occured at some point in the distant past, lost in the mists of antiquity. What the people of old would have said is this:
Turning twenty-one is one of life's MILLSTONES.
And do you know what one does with millstones?
One hangs them around one's neck immediately prior to throwing oneself into a lake, with the express purpose being to drown and die.
Turning twenty-one, I put it to all and sundry, is merely the accumulation of another millstone around the neck. Sooner or later they all drag you under.
But enough talk of such gaiety and frivolity. Let us turn our attention to more serious matters, such as bubble-gum, and why 24 hour convenience stores have locks on their doors.
+++++++++++++++++++++
(count them! The number is precisely the one for this post, and also a curious multiplication of the two sacred numbers of Christianity, at least as far as I know. Perhaps this year is to a holy one for me)
Life is a funny thing, I'll say. And by all accounts I've had a rather marvellous journey so far, and been blessed far beyond all deservable limits, extremely above and beyond anything I could conceivably warrant or merit in any way. God has been exceedingly good to me, and for this I give thanks as often as I remember to.
Its been a brilliant twenty-one (almost!) years, and here's a nice big general thank you to all who've been involved in making it so.
While I know the next ten or twenty years won't be as good - as my vision starts to fade, I lose my hearing and arthritis sets in, quite aside from going completely bald and having my hip replaced 13 times - I'm hoping things won't be terribly grim.
And in closing, here's to those who are to accompany me on the next section of life. To those of old who stay with me - Heaven forfend! - and those whom Providence shall bring my way, I wish us happy times ahead, and memories in abundance.
One final thing - to the Timothy Harries of forty: Look back on this young idiot of twenty-one and laugh scornfully, would you?
Mocking in hindsight counts but for naught
At the time of fighting, you knew why you fought
When you set out seeking, you knew what you sought
But Time passes by, and reasons grow short.
Cold and slow.
Death becomes me
'Ere I know.
Well, I'm turning 21 in 9 days. 9 days, yes, that's right.
On the 28th of March, 1986, I was born in a hospital in Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia, and the world was never the same again.
The world just doesn't know it yet.
So anyway. As one approaches this momentous, gigantic, horror-inspiring figure, one begins to contemplate certain things - one finds oneself ruminating, in the idlest moments of the night, the steadfast forward motion of Time, which inexorably steamrolls over everything in its way.
One ponders milestones and millstones.
What, you say? Well, allow me to expound, and wax cynical.
They (the inimitable "They", yes, them) say that turning twenty-one is a milestone in life. A guidepost of sorts, letting you know where you are (which is Life, of course) and what you're supposed to do (keep living, naturally), as well as where you're supposed to go (forward, one would tend to think, especially given the lack of choice involved). Something to mark all that you've achieved (which by the end of the night is, if nothing else, the unique but dubitable distinction of having imbibed copious amounts of alcohol in most occasions), and to indicate where you might proceed next in life (in this case, I'm guessing the nearest toilet).
My opinion is somewhat different though - no suprise there, of course.
If you ask me, turning twenty-one is called a "milestone" in life by mere dint of a simple mis-spelling, a mistake that occured at some point in the distant past, lost in the mists of antiquity. What the people of old would have said is this:
Turning twenty-one is one of life's MILLSTONES.
And do you know what one does with millstones?
One hangs them around one's neck immediately prior to throwing oneself into a lake, with the express purpose being to drown and die.
Turning twenty-one, I put it to all and sundry, is merely the accumulation of another millstone around the neck. Sooner or later they all drag you under.
But enough talk of such gaiety and frivolity. Let us turn our attention to more serious matters, such as bubble-gum, and why 24 hour convenience stores have locks on their doors.
+++++++++++++++++++++
(count them! The number is precisely the one for this post, and also a curious multiplication of the two sacred numbers of Christianity, at least as far as I know. Perhaps this year is to a holy one for me)
Life is a funny thing, I'll say. And by all accounts I've had a rather marvellous journey so far, and been blessed far beyond all deservable limits, extremely above and beyond anything I could conceivably warrant or merit in any way. God has been exceedingly good to me, and for this I give thanks as often as I remember to.
Its been a brilliant twenty-one (almost!) years, and here's a nice big general thank you to all who've been involved in making it so.
While I know the next ten or twenty years won't be as good - as my vision starts to fade, I lose my hearing and arthritis sets in, quite aside from going completely bald and having my hip replaced 13 times - I'm hoping things won't be terribly grim.
And in closing, here's to those who are to accompany me on the next section of life. To those of old who stay with me - Heaven forfend! - and those whom Providence shall bring my way, I wish us happy times ahead, and memories in abundance.
One final thing - to the Timothy Harries of forty: Look back on this young idiot of twenty-one and laugh scornfully, would you?
Mocking in hindsight counts but for naught
At the time of fighting, you knew why you fought
When you set out seeking, you knew what you sought
But Time passes by, and reasons grow short.
posted by Timothy at 10:38 pm
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